


Rites of Spring

by puzzleboat



Category: Superman & Lois (TV 2021)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 14:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puzzleboat/pseuds/puzzleboat
Summary: Jordan may have outgrown some of his old t-shirts. Sarah, as it turns out, doesn’t mind.
Relationships: Sarah Cushing/Jordan Kent
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Rites of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> An extremely fluffy vignette inspired by Paige242’s recent “Jordan gets hot at some point in the future” stories, including Costume and Popular. Just wanted to add my silly little contribution to that timeline.

It had been a long winter, so Jordan was overjoyed to the wake up to the first rays of the spring sun streaming in through his curtains. It was already nearly 11; he hopped out of bed quickly in order to meet Sarah at the diner for lunch to celebrate the first day of spring break.

Jordan used to stress about what he was wearing when he saw Sarah, but after a football season’s worth of sweaty helmet hair, he’d rather just be on time for once. His phone told him that it was the first day of the year to crack 60 degrees, so he dug into the bottom of his drawer and pulled out an old band t-shirt that hadn’t seen use since before they moved to Smallville. It felt a little more snug than he remembered, but he didn’t really have time to worry about it. 

Not for the first time, he wondered if he was ever going to get super speed. It would make his life so much easier. 

He sent a quick emoji response to a text from Jon (he was in Metropolis for a few days, staying with a friend and visiting Eliza), called out a goodbye to his mom on the way out the door (she was buried in work at the dining room table), grabbed his bike, and headed into town. 

He didn’t stop moving until he found Sarah in one of the booths. He collapsed in a heap and took a big sip of water from the glass that was already on the table. When he finally looked up, Sarah was leveling an inscrutable gaze at him. 

“What?” he asked. 

“You been working out?” she said dryly, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Uh...” That was not what he expected her to say. “Football season’s been over for months. Why?”

“Why are you so — you know.” She puffed out her cheeks and curled her arms in an exaggerated chest flex. “Either puberty’s been extremely good to you lately, or there was some kind of deal with the devil situation.”

Ah, right.

When his powers had first appeared back in the fall, his outsized strength was seemingly in spite of his exceedingly average (maybe even shrimpy) teenaged body. It was the thing that differentiated him most from his brother and father (besides everything else). But at some point that had started to change. 

His body had started to fill out and tone up, looking a little different everyday, for a few months straight. He was ravenously hungry but otherwise doing nothing different, and even so, his shoulders got broader and his chest more defined. He was now an inch or two taller than Jon. His arms filled the sleeves of his hoodies more, especially when he flexed (which he only did when he was alone, and Jon could never know). All of the sudden, he even had abs. 

Jordan thought that using his powers could have caused his Kryptonian genes to kick in more (“maybe they, like, woke up”). Jon thought it was triggered by football practice (“I mean, you’d never exercised before, short stack”). Lois didn’t offer a guess but sometimes gave Jordan an affectionate bicep squeeze when he helped carry in the groceries. And when he’d sheepishly asked his dad on a trip to the Fortress, Clark had unhelpfully offered a hearty shrug (“I’m not sure when it happened to me or why. But it’s weird, right?”). 

And it was weird. But also — kinda cool? When he could admit it to himself, it made him feel confident in his appearance for the first time since appearances started to matter to him. Against all logic, it actually made him feel stronger (which, to be fair, he was, and more so all the time). 

It made him feel more like his dad. More (he could barely think it) like Superman.

But all that aside, it was also a constant reminder that his body wasn’t normal. It was literally becoming more abnormal by the day. Jon got to build normal muscle (more or less) at a normal human rate (more or less). Jordan just kind of changed. As if by magic.

So he kept wearing the same baggy clothes he usually did. It was winter anyway. And once the constant changes leveled out a bit, he sort of...put it behind him. Until today.

He followed Sarah’s eyes down to his old tee, the local Metropolis band’s logo stretched somewhat unnaturally across his chest and threadbare enough to allude to the curve of his pecs. The short sleeves were tight around his upper arms, threatening to curl up towards his shoulders if he were to move too suddenly. It occurred to him distantly that if not for his powers, the tightness might be enough to be physically uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, you got me,” he said, trying to be cool. “I picked up a spam call the other day and it turned out to be Satan. He asked if I wanted a six-pack.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow again, her gaze dropping a little lower. “You have a six-pack?”

“Uh.” Jordan didn’t know the right answer here. “I guess?”

“Show me,” she said, crossing her arms. Her face was still impassive. Jordan just could not figure this girl out. 

“Jesus, Sarah,” he hissed, feeling a blush mortifyingly bloom on his cheeks. “I’m not taking my shirt off in the middle of Victoria May’s.”

She shrugged. “It’s what the women of small town America want. Haven’t you seen _Magic Mike_?”

Jordan tugged at the front of his shirt, suddenly self-conscious. 

“All right.” She leaned forward on her elbows, resting her chin on her palms innocently. “Gimme a flex then.”

Jordan was feeling a million things at once now. The blush was creeping down his neck. Sarah didn’t blink. 

It was probably breaking one of Dad’s rules, but for the life of him Jordan couldn’t think of what. 

Before he could change his mind, he lifted his right arm (the one further from the rest of the diner patrons), curled it, and tensed. His bicep swelled, roundish and the size of a healthy orange, his sleeve indeed pushing up a bit from the motion.

This time, both of Sarah’s brows shot up. 

Jordan didn’t know whether to be smug or desperately embarrassed. Both emotions battled in his stomach. 

Sarah extended her hand. “Can I—?” Jordan gave a quick nod, not breathing.

Sarah leaned across the table and wrapped her hand around his upper arm, her fingertips making it nearly halfway around. Her usual hardened expression was closer to his face now and ever-so-slightly slack-jawed. 

A voice in his head pointed out that he had done nothing to earn this. But another voice countered: hadn’t he been through enough?

After what felt like an eternity, Sarah let go, slinking back into her booth. Jordan let out a shaky breath. 

“Pretty impressive,” she said, with less convincing nonchalance than usual. 

Jordan relaxed his arm and rubbed at it, its firmness still feeling a bit weird to his fingers. “Uh. Thanks, I guess.”

“So, what’d you do?” she asked, looking away from him for the first time and opening her menu. 

His parents always said to let people create the fiction for him. “What you said,” he responded, trying to keep his voice light. “Puberty. And, like, football, I guess. I dunno. Bodies are weird.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sarah said sagely. Jordan exhaled in relief. He couldn’t believe that worked. “Well, tell Satan he did a bang-up job.”

Jordan snorted a little into his water glass. 

“So, you doing anything this afternoon?” Sarah asked, her voice casual. 

Jordan smirked. “Sarah, you’re my only friend. Also, Jon’s in Metropolis and they don’t let me into parties without him.”

“Well, come on over,” Sarah said. “We’ll hang.”

***

The adult Cushings were both at work and Sophie was out, so Sarah let them into the house, leading Jordan up to her room and shutting the door for good measure. Jordan had been in Sarah’s room before, but rarely alone and never in an empty house. 

Sarah set her messenger bag down on her desk chair and turned to face Jordan.

“So, you gonna show me your abs now?”

Jordan let out a bark of nervous laughter. “What?”

“We’re not in the diner anymore,” she said, gesturing to the room. “What, do I need to invent a game of Truth or Dare? You’re better than that.”

It had been six months that he and Sarah had been hanging out, and they had barely gone further than a chaste-ish kiss. Jordan had no idea what was happening. 

He kind of wanted to find out. 

Clenching his stomach a bit (not that it was strictly necessary), he lifted up the hem of his shirt. 

“Holy shit, you do have six-pack,” she muttered, eyes wide. “I kinda didn’t believe you.” She took a step forward and extended her arm again. Jordan nodded and she brushed her fingers lightly across his stomach, near the base of his rib cage. “Is this weird for you?” she asked.

Jordan shrugged. “A little. But I think I like it.”

At that, Sarah took another step toward him and placed one hand on his bare side. She used the other to grab at the hem of his shirt and helped him pull it over his head. 

“Jesus Christ, Jordan,” she said, running her hands along his arms and staring at his chest unabashedly. Jordan knew his blush was spreading again. He wasn’t really used to people looking at him. Like, at all. 

She met his eyes. “This isn’t just puberty,” she said. It wasn’t a question. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said honestly. 

“Well, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, that’s what I say,” she smirked, squeezing his arms again. Then she kissed him, deeply. 

At that, Jordan finally reached out to touch her, focusing on being gentle as he wrapped his arms around her, stroked her hair, teased the bottom of her sweater. She broke the kiss, stepped back, and pulled it off, uncovering her thin tank top.

“Can you pick me up?” she asked breathlessly. 

Finally, a question he knew the answer to. He reached down to tuck his arm underneath her knees and then straightened up, bringing her into a hold commonly known as the Superman carry. He didn’t bother to pretend that it was difficult.

“Where to, miss?” he said, trying for “Disney prince” and landing, to his ear, somewhere closer to “his dad doing a bit.”

She laughed warmly, so he figured he was doing something right. 

“The bed,” she said, “if that’s cool with you.”

***

It was pretty cool. After a heavy makeout session, Jordan was left panting for the first time in months.

A couple hours later, Lana was due back from work, so Jordan collected his things to get home for dinner.

“Here,” Sarah said, tossing his t-shirt over to him from where it had been discarded on the floor. “You know, you should wear that more. It’s a good look for you.”

Jordan ducked his head so he could hide his furious blush behind his hair. “Yeah, okay,” he said as he pulled the shirt over his head.

“And, hey.” When his head emerged from the shirt, Sarah was standing in front of him. She pulled his head down for one more deep kiss. “See you tomorrow?”

Jordan beamed as he headed out the door. It was going to be a good spring break.


End file.
